


Say Goodnight and Go

by Urby



Category: Bravely Default: Flying Fairy
Genre: Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 13:18:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1429942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Urby/pseuds/Urby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This wasn't like the last four visits to the vampire's castle. Agnès had a purpose here. A question she needed answered, and getting the answer would not be easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say Goodnight and Go

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for a while, but it wasn't until I saw a prompt on the bravelykink community on Dreamwidth that I actually wrote this. Please check out the community, it has some really nice things in it already and can really go places!

The four warriors of light moved about the castle as if they knew the grounds. Lester DeRosso watched them with reserved interest. The vestal and her companions seemed barely surprised to see him appear before them. They viewed the paintings before them not with new eyes, but with a lingering gaze as if trying to find something new, something they had missed. They spoke amongst themselves of "another" and "again".

If DeRosso had been a younger man, he would have been confused or curious. Instead, he simply accepted this development and the strange, somber implications it carried. He knew what it meant.

The four companions had arrived late at night. They must have been delayed somehow on their way from Eternia - not unusual, considering the harshness of the mountain paths. They had battled their way up two floors before deciding they were too exhausted to continue, and set up a small, tidy camp underneath a wall sconce for warmth.

The castle had been so long populated solely by demons and creatures that having human visitors stay the night felt...foreign. But not unwelcome. DeRosso waited in his throne room and dozed.

Footsteps making their way up the staircases made him alert, and he glided silently towards the sound. The vestal was trying to get to the top floor...by herself. Interesting. He bade the denizens of the castle leave her be. She reached the throne room without incident.

"Now, what purpose does the vestal have to see me without the company of her allies?" DeRosso asked, gesturing casually.

She stood her ground. She seemed undaunted, just a bit nervous. "I wish to see the painting of the angel," she said in a clear voice.

"You are aware that you must prove worthy in order to do so." It was not a question. She nodded anyway. "I also will remind you that you are alone. Without aid."

"I am aware," she said, a bit softer than before.

"Very well. Whenever you are ready."

She armed herself with a staff, though an enchantment on her person prevented him from seeing what asterisks she was currently using. She had given this some thought.

He attacked her with light jabs, trying to figure out her game. Her actions were measured, full of blocks and parries as she set up protective barriers and healed off her wounds. White Magic, at least, she was willing to show. She meant to draw out the fight.

He lunged, pouring his magic into the tip of his blade. Instead of taking the blow, however, she...soared. An expertly controlled Aero allowed her to avoid his attack with an effortlessness that _nearly_ impressed him. Of course, she was the Vestal of Wind. Such tricks would come naturally to her. He chased, flinging a Tornado at the area she was looking to land in. She gasped, but recovered quickly, using her wind to launch herself away, buffeting him as well.

"Your mastery of the winds is quite fine, Lady Vestal!" DeRosso called out. "But can you fly?"

He was just testing her, of course. He had seen her fly once before, long ago.

She landed, hitting the ground running so she would not allow him an easy target. "If you mean to distract me," she yelled, hurling sharp zephyrs at him, "such tactics will not work!"

He avoided what harm he could while closing in, cutting at her to force her out of her defensive position. She did not tire nearly as quickly as he had hoped; he recognized the regenerative properties of the Conjurer bolstering her magical resources. All that meant was that she had fought Yulyana at some time in the past (her past) - she had yet to invoke any of the summons. She was taking particular care not to show her second set of abilities...he wondered why. She was making so little progress with White Magic alone.

In fact, if this continued the way things were currently progressing, it would be more than morning by the time either one were finished. Perhaps he needed to hurry things along.

There, a time where she was busy reestablishing her defenses instead of healing herself. He bristled with barely restrained energy. "Bone Crusher!"

He expected her to crumble - she _had_ to, with the damage she had taken - but she remained standing, somehow. What shocked him more, however, was the dark aura that surrounded the vestal after she had taken the hit, and that all-too-familiar exhaling sound of Vampiric magic.

_That means...all this time!?_

The vestal healed herself and discarded her staff, drawing an elaborate knife in its place. She seemed changed; she was throwing herself at him and sapping his strength, and she was _quick_ all of a sudden. Now he was the one on the defensive, only managing to get her to disengage whenever she charged.

_Using the wind to launch herself at me so she can attack before I react...completely different from how she was earlier. She has been considering this for a long time, no doubt._

He felt a surge of pride, that she was using his own magic against him - and using it so well. She was elegant when she soared, her dress billowing like outstretched wings, but this was a fierce sort of beauty. There was a glint in her eye, like everything she had planned was falling into place. He was not quite sure what she was planning, though...why hadn't she been doing this before?

_Unless...she had been waiting for me to give her the last tool for her game?_

He was too slow, too weak to pursue her now, and he noticed her resting and conserving her actions at times before continuing her assault. Whatever she was planning, it was going to be explosive...

_Ah. I see now._

She flared, Braving with all of her might, crackling uncontrollably with her newly acquired skill. One, two, three...oh, this would hurt, if she had her way.

She flung the Bone Crushers with a hoarse scream. He shielded his eyes with an arm, more out of decorum than actual need. He knew he could not be hurt, but the floor was less fortunate. Dust and smoke obscured the room.

He could hear her panting. She had completely exhausted herself with that attempt. He strode over, waving the dust away. She was seated, catching her breath, and looked understandably startled when she realized he was unscathed. But, she didn't recoil or flinch when he lifted her chin with his blade.

"A most entertaining bout," he said, sheathing his sword. "You have a very shrewd mind. I enjoyed this brief taste of its capabilities."

She was silent for a while, then shook her head in disappointment. "Not capable enough. I...made a childish error." She balled her hands into fists. "I cannot afford such mistakes against my greatest enemy!"

He rummaged in his vest pocket and pulled out an Elixir for her to drink. "It was not one you could have foreseen. The Bone Crusher is a magic based on the power of one's will. You are young, still unused to it. You cannot expect to use it to any effect against a foe such as I." She accepted the drink with a resigned expression. "It is fortunate you have made this mistake against me, instead of your greater objective."

She drank and recovered silently. He helped her stand.

"You may view the painting, if you wish."

She looked up at him and frowned. "You defeated me."

He waved an arm dismissively. "That does not matter. You are worthy."

She gazed at him a moment longer, then nodded. The two of them regarded the final painting together.

"How many times have you seen this painting?" he asked.

She rested her cheek on one hand. "...This is my fifth time."

"So it is familiar to you. And yet, you are willing to put yourself in danger, fight alone, in order to see it once again?"

She did not answer. He allowed her time with her thoughts.

"Lord DeRosso," she said quietly. He turned, inclining his head towards her. "...Do you think I am the angel?"

He considered the question carefully, considered the girl in front of him, and considered the painting. "I do not," he said finally.

She seemed surprised by this response.

"The angel knew. Too much, perhaps. She had seen an end too horrible to describe. Perhaps that is why she departed so quickly, because she knew she would not live. But you...you do not know whether you will fail or succeed. In this uncertainty is hope. And there is possibility."

She seemed unconvinced and still discouraged. He sighed silently.

"What was she like?"

"Beautiful, even while she struggled with death. But ever mindful of her mission. I wish I knew her more, but she left us so quickly."

Agnès put a hand on her chest and turned away.

DeRosso considered the scene in front of him, then made his decision. "Will a gift restore your spirits, Lady?"

"A gift!" she said, jumping slightly.

"Yes. I suspect I will not need this much longer. It will be more useful to you," he said, removing his watch and placing it in her waiting hands.

She tipped her head at the watch for a moment. "...It is slow."

"The last time I wound it was 1800 years ago. When she died," he explained. "It kept perfect time until recently - when you came into this world. I suspect we will meet again when it stops."

She clasped the watch in her hands, then to her chest. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Return to your companions. We all need rest."

"Yes. Thank you again," she bowed. She left, and he followed her path with his eyes. Then he turned back to his throne, spun it around, and had a seat in it, looking towards the painting for what he knew would be the final time.


End file.
